Poetry, A Verisimilitude.

I’m tired of holding back, I’m tired of clinging to the ideal

I’m tired of feeling like a villain for loving you

I’m tired of feeling like all I ever want to do is make others understand

I’m tired of people mischaracterizing what I say 

I’m tired of you trying to push me away

 

I’m tired of the voices in my head that help me make excuses

I’m tired of making sense out of nothing

I’m tired of having to deal with those that pretend

I’m tired of feeling undeserving

I’m tired of explaining myself when I shouldn’t have to.

 

Hell, at this point I’m tired of saying I’m tired

Is it a surprise then, why I always end up returning here, to you

Writing every other day like I’m drafting the constitution

Is it a surprise then, why I always end up coming here, to you …

I mean tell me, who else understands me as much as you do?

 

I let my shields down and unload what would be called garbage elsewhere

My thoughts constantly aligning at the whiff of your presence,

All this talk of scouting life-hacks and mine has always been here

You’re not my Day-one and yet I feel my life started

The day I decided to write my first sentence.

 

I’m not a believer of fate and yet nothing but you can sate

My appetite for spiritual enrichment.

It’s only with you that I get to say everything on my mind

With you, that I feel I’m making strides at personal fulfilment

With you, that it becomes easier to see whats irrelevant.

 

Despite entertaining delusions in the absence of company

There is only one I wish to see in front of me

One I wish to have form, one I wish to be true;

You.

 

– O.D. ©2019

 

Art by: Aenami